Beauty and the Duke

by Melody Thomas

  She needed to believe. Aunt Sophie did not understand what was at stake. “There is power in this ring, Aunt Sophie. I know there is.”

  “The ring did not bring Sedgwick back into your life, dear. He had been in contact with your papa for months about fossil finds on this estate. There are no special powers that made you his wife and brought you to Scotland.”

  Christine refused to be dissuaded. There was magic in this ring. There had to be. She rose to her feet in a whisper of burgundy silk and white lace. “My entire life I have been searching for what I have before me now.”

  “Are you referring to Lord Sedgwick or your beast, Christine? A few months ago Sedgwick was not in your life.”

  Christine pressed her thumbs to her temple and wanted to tell her aunt to stop it! Go away. “Why can’t I have both? Don’t you understand, I have to believe, Aunt Sophie.”

  “If all of this is magic, what happens when the ring comes off?”

  “Why must it come off? See?” She held up her hand. “It is on my finger.”

  “Then what?” Aunt Sophie quietly asked. “Sedgwick falls in love with you and you spend the rest of your life happy, or do you spend it doubting yourself? And him? You must be worthy of your wish.”

  The tenor in Aunt Sophie’s voice both startled and frightened her because it suddenly answered a question. “Papa did not get this ring from a Gypsy trader, did he?”

  Aunt Sophie waved her hand dismissively. “It is a silly ring with a silly Arthurian legend attached to it I found in my great-grandmother’s hope chest. Your father discovered it one day. He must have been only twenty at the time. Always searching for that elusive magic elixir that would make his life complete. He had two passions in his life, archaeology and your mother. In those days, there was no paleontology or name for people who hunted fossils.”

  “Mam left Papa after he took off the ring…”

  “You can only want one thing most in the world, Christine.” Aunt Sophie rose. “And you must be worthy of your own wish. Spells and enchantments are all fine and well, but for all the magic on King Arthur’s side, in the end, Britain’s mighty savior lost his Guinevere, and his life, and the sword went back into the lake. Nothing will endure if you are not first worthy of your own wish.”

  Beast had abandoned her.

  Christine recognized desertion when she saw it, and, a fortnight later, as she was making her way to the stables to meet Hamilton, she finally saw her traitorous cat following Cook down into the scullery that led to the kitchens. He hadn’t made so much as one visit to her since she had moved into the tower.

  Hamilton met her at the stable door. Miss Pippen was saddled, ready and standing next to his shaggy gelding. Hamilton dropped into step with her as she passed him to the mounting block. “You are up early again, mum. Will we be off to the same place as we were yesterday?”

  Christine pulled on her gloves. “No, I think we will move east.”

  Seven days in a row, Christine had pulled poor Hamilton out of his bed before dawn. Yesterday he’d fallen asleep on a bed of pine needles, and Christine had had three hours to explore the higher elevations without having to worry that the lumbering man would break his neck attempting to follow her into the rocks. She’d wanted to find a better view to see the surrounding crags and dips. She’d mapped out trails on Erik’s estate that needed closer inspection. At this rate, she could be here a decade and not see all the sections.

  Erik couldn’t wait that long for answers.

  Last week, she had written to Joseph and Amelia and asked them to come to Scotland. Joseph Darlington had been a decent geologist before he’d specialized in paleontology under her father’s tutelage. Tenting her hand over her eyes, she peered at the distant crags. If she had to share her dragon, then she would have it be with Joseph if it meant answers. She had not found one fossil.

  Not one.

  “You can only want one thing most in the world.”

  Looking up at the sky, she mounted. Today was a clear blue so bright the sun hurt her eyes. She adjusted her hat and nudged Miss Pippen forward with the heels of her boots. In no great hurry, the horse walked out of the yard, and only after they had reached the stone gate did the old mare pick up her pace.

  “Miss Pippen might be a dawdler, mum,” Hampton said. “But she be of sturdy stock. There be nothing wrong with sturdy stock.”

  The equipment she’d bundled in a knapsack and tied to the back of the cantle rattled with the choppy gait almost as loudly as her teeth did.

  She had spent two hours last night grooming the mare Erik had given her, but she had not been able to make herself ride the beautiful horse. It was just a horse, after all, she’d told herself. Christine smoothed the aged woolen cloth of her skirts. Besides, she was more like Miss Pippen than the delicate mare. Hardy.

  “There be a crew up on the high road again,” Hampton said. “We might want to bypass.”

  “I thought Hodges told Lord Sedgwick the road had been repaired.”

  “Hodges thought at first someone be makin’ the potholes mottling the road, but now he does not think so. There are more of them than before. He is recommending closin’ the road permanently.”

  “More potholes?”

  Christine reined in Miss Pippen and pulled out her map. The road connected to the drover trail and sat between the waterfall and the cliffs. She’d already surveyed the area where the carriage accident had occurred, but that was shortly after the road had already been repaired. Her heart began to thump.

  Time and man had carved the high road over the crags. It would not take as long for rushing water to carve through weaker substrata beneath. Water flows toward the area of least resistance. Perhaps the reason why no more fossils had been washing up on the riverbanks was because the water had already eroded and perhaps expanded the lava tube enough, thus minimizing the powerful ebb and flow of water against the walls. Yet with expansion…

  “Did Hodges say what is causing the abundance of new potholes?”

  “He thinks there could be a sinkhole beneath. That’s why he called back Bailey, mum. Hodges already sent a message to his grace in Dunfermline to inform him.”

  Another rider suddenly approached. Christine returned the map to her knapsack as Hampton moved slightly in front of her. She let him, as he was single-mindedly devoted to protecting her from all threats, seen as well as imagined.

  “It be Lord John Maxwell,” Hampton said.

  Indeed it was. Christine tipped back her hat and awaited the miscreant’s approach. He looked handsome atop a sleek bay hunter. He might sit a horse well and look distinguished in black. He might even resemble Erik from a distance, but there was nothing about him she liked. Today he was without his sister, Lara.

  Reigning in his horse, he tipped his hat, his eyes a deep cobalt blue beneath the narrow rim. “Lady Sedgwick. How fortuitous that we meet again.”

  Johnny Maxwell might be related to Erik by marriage and even be some distant cousin by blood, but the man was no relative of hers. She was not required to be polite. “Considering you are on Sedgwick land, I do not find it fortuitous at all,” she replied.

  He feigned injury. “You are still offended over my comment at the festivities,” he said. “I would hope you know they were not aimed at you.”

  “Your barb was indeed aimed directly at me, sir. It just didn’t have the result you wanted.”

  Maxwell rubbed his chin. “You think not?”

  “Why are you here?” she asked. Maxwell must have known that Erik was not here.

  Maxwell looked around him. “I’ve been informed you have been digging near the falls.”

  “Have you now? Considering only a few people know that, I’m rather curious to learn how you came about that information and found me.”

  “If I tell you, will you allow me to accompany you?”

  She could not believe he had the audacity to ask. “I would not.”

  “May I inquire then, what are you searching for up at the fal
ls? Rumors say you are a hobbyist fossil collector looking for the great winged Sedgwick beast. Me? I think you are searching for my sister, and I would ask to be included in that search, too. I want to know what you know.”

  Christine did not intend to allow him anywhere near her search. “Then you are not one of those who believe Lady Elizabeth is still alive, haunting these crags and sending a grief-stricken parent letters?”

  “I am one of those who believe your husband had much to do with her demise. Maybe you are just a little curious, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t the bastard who sent that most recent letter to my father to throw the scent off his back. My father is in frail health.”

  “How fortuitous for you then, since you will be next in line for the duchy.”

  Maxwell’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps if Sedgwick had been more generous to my family, his grace would not be in the predicament he is in now.” Maxwell leaned forward. “By generous, I mean kinder to an old man who wants to know his granddaughter. You want the real beast of Sedgwick, look no farther than your bed, sweetling.”

  Christine’s hand tightened on the quirt. “You may go, Lord John.”

  “Or what? Hampton will throw me off precious Sedgwick land?”

  “Your rank may forbid Hampton from laying a hand on you, but it will not stop me. Or Hampton from defending me should you attempt to strike me back.”

  Eying her quirt, he laughed. “I believe you would strike me.” Grinning, Maxwell leaned a forearm on his thigh and said, “Since you are about to find yourself out of matrimony, I believe I might decide to court you myself.” He laughed and swung his horse around. “Even if you are an odd one, your grace.”

  She hated that his words made her flinch. Out of matrimony.

  Watching Lord John ride away, she frowned. “Have you told anyone what I am doing in these hills, Hampton?”

  He blanched. “I would never say anything, mum.”

  She reined around Miss Pippen to head back to the stable. “I think I will postpone our outing until later today.”

  “Where is Lady Rebecca?” Christine asked Becca’s maid, catching the girl belowstairs.

  Christine had left the stables and gone directly to Becca’s chambers. When she found the door locked and no answer to her summons, she went to the dining room. No one had seen her since yesterday evening.

  Becca’s young maid folded her hands nervously in front of her. “Mrs. Brown told me I was not to disturb her, mum.”

  “Does Mrs. Brown often give you these dictums to leave her alone?”

  “Only when Lady Rebecca awakens in the night with one of her nightmares, mum. They have become more frequent of late.”

  “I don’t understand. Does his grace know she suffers these afflictions?”

  “The doctors wanted to put her into an asylum but he would not allow it.”

  “Find a key and open the door.”

  Wide-eyed, the girl bobbed. “Yes, mum. Follow me.”

  Boris was standing outside the door when Christine arrived with the key. “Mrs. Brown was concerned you would awaken Lady Rebecca, your grace,” he said. “It is always better after an episode that she sleep. She has been asking for her mother, mum. All day she has been asking. She has only just now returned to sleep.”

  Christine chewed on her lower lip. “What is wrong with Becca, Boris?”

  He shook his head. “The nightmares began shortly after Lady Elizabeth’s disappearance. She never remembers waking up or sleepwalking.”

  Erik had once told her his sister had been the last one to see Lady Elizabeth alive. “What did Becca see that night, Boris?”

  Boris looked uncomfortable. “You will have to ask his grace, mum.”

  Chapter 17

  Three days later Erik returned. Christine had just come down from the hills when she saw the Sedgwick coach in the carriage yard. The horses had already been led away to the stables, and men carrying buckets of soapy water were scrubbing the wheels and doors.

  “He arrived home a half hour ago, mum,” one of the livery boys told her as she slid off Miss Pippen’s back and dropped to the ground.

  Erik was home!

  A moment later, Christine was rounding the third floor in the tower, slowing as she peered up the stairwell. She gathered her skirts and took the final flight of stairs. At the top-floor landing, she walked to the doorway opening into the bedroom. Only then did she dare pause and catch her breath. Whether from her exertion or seeing Erik, her heart thudded in her chest.

  He stood in the middle of the master’s suites, his hands at his side as he turned in a slow circle. He still wore his cloak and gloves as if he had come up here almost at once upon arriving. Holding her breath, she watched the play of his expression in the light filtering through the leaded windows, waiting for him to see her. Her hand stripped the scarf from her hair…and suddenly she was looking into his face.

  Before she could dwell on the weight against her heart, she said, “I hope you do not mind the changes I have made up here.”

  She hurried to stand before the bed and brushed her hands over the emerald velvet draperies. “These were in another bedroom in another part of the castle. We painted the walls. Have you been upstairs? The shelves are repaired. New glass for the cabinetry will be installed next week. We had to send out to St. Andrews for a suitable glassmaker. You have your room back.” She began to run out of things to say to fill the void she knew would follow in the silence. And then he would tell her what happened in Dunfermline.

  He came two steps nearer. She took a step backward.

  “Christine—”

  “Don’t say it, Erik. Do not come up here to my tower and tell me that with all your wealth and riches you could not buy us a reprieve.”

  Amusement softened his eyes. “Your tower, is it now?”

  “You gave it to me.” She scrubbed the heel of her hand against each cheek. “You said I could have it to do as I would. So now I have it and it’s mine.”

  As you are mine.

  “And I will not relinquish it.”

  He withdrew a handkerchief from inside his cloak. “What have I told you about wiping your nose on your sleeve?”

  She snatched the lacy cloth from his gloved hand and glared at him. “Do not lecture to me about my lack of decorum. I…”

  He pulled her into his arms, and with his hand, he pressed her cheek against his shoulder. His cloak cocooned her against him, and there she remained, unable to say anything more.

  “I do not believe I have ever had anyone fight for me that I did not well pay for the service.” He pressed his lips against her hair. “You honor me.”

  She held her wet nose against his waistcoat. “You have paid me. You gave me this tower.”

  His chest vibrated against her forehead. After a moment, he said, “It is beautiful up here. I had forgotten.”

  The windows looked toward the distant crags. Piercing sunlight created a flawlessly blue sky, perfect in every way. She could see for miles. “I would have you live up here with me, Erik.”

  His hand framed her cheek as he lifted her face. Before she could breathe or whisper his name, his mouth was on hers. He kissed her with infinite gentleness. She could feel the solid beat of his heart against her palm. He pressed his lips to her hair. “I’m sorry you have been through hell over this,” he said. “If I were anyone else, our marriage would not have been an issue. But because of who I am—”

  “You are no longer my husband.”

  His mouth moved across her temple. “I am your husband in every way, Christine.”

  “Oh, God, Erik.” Her knees nearly gave out. “You have no idea how I have worried over this issue. Why didn’t you tell me the moment I walked in here?”

  He lowered his arms and walked to the window. He braced his palms on the sill. “A hundred people have sworn they have seen her, Christine. I read eighteen witness depositions from the past few months alone. These were journeymen, tenants, ordinary people who swore on a Bibl
e that they had seen her in the hills between here and St. Andrews. I saw the letter written to her father that said she was alive and happy and that he should no longer worry for her. It was her handwriting. Lord Eyre truly believes Elizabeth lives.”

  “What do you believe?”

  “I believe the Maxwell clan will soon learn a hard and costly lesson about the follies of waging a war with me.”

  “That is not what I asked.”

  He slowly turned his head. Christine saw the flash of pain in his eyes and knew she could not possibly understand what it must feel like, blaming yourself for some horrible tragedy that might have been prevented had you just done something, anything, differently. Finding Elizabeth alive could take away that guilt and pain inside him. “Are you truly beginning to question this yourself?” she asked.

  “The fact remains that despite the legal inconsistencies regarding her date of disappearance, she has been absent seven years and is not my wife any longer.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “If the letter is a hoax, then it must also be aimed at Elizabeth’s father. Have you considered that? What could anyone hope to gain by that manner of cruelty, Erik?”

  “Robert and Johnny Maxwell are the only two who have anything to lose should you conceive my heir. They need our marriage nullified.”

  Still, the pieces did not fit. “No one can expect you to remain bound forever to a ghost. What can the person who perpetuated such a hoax expect to happen in the next few months to change anything?”

  “I believe I am expected to die in the next few weeks, madam.”

  Christine gasped. Erik pulled her into his arms. “Ah, love, it is not my intent to make light of the curse. I do not want you hurt by this.” He framed her face with his hands. “But even if I could go back and change the past few months…I would not do anything differently.”

  “I am relieved to hear that.” She dabbed the handkerchief at her nose. Her chin tilted. “We are partners, Erik. I am not going to allow anyone to run me away from here. I think it is time we bring Aunt Sophie into the fold. She is an anthropologist. I want her to examine the human jaw bone and teeth you found last spring. Let us make sure. She has been saying it might be time for her to go. This will be a reason for her to stay.”